you're my last shot

harry's jealous

Y/N isn't quite sure how she ended up in this position.

One minute, the cute barista at her local coffee shop asked her out on a date and slipped her his number. (It was a sweet move, she has to admit, and it made her stomach do a flip in a way that she hasn't felt in awhile... not since she and Harry slept together two months ago or so, but she would never willingly admit that.) The next minute, they're on the date, grabbing dinner at a quaint Italian spot in his part of the city, and it's going... terribly.

It turns out he's some poor excuse for an indie wannabe, only talks about himself, and even tried to get her to have a glass of wine despite Y/N's disclosure that she's pregnant. It's all entirely too uncomfortable, and she can feel her phone vibrating in her pocket nearly every five minutes — the first and second times she checked it with an apology to... whatever his name was, concerned that a friend or family member needed something, only to find that it was just Harry blowing up her phone.

are you there? where did he take you?

if im thinking of the same guy, he's not even that cute, you deserve better

also he better not drink and drive, there's precious cargo to take care of

lmk if you need me to bail you out early

She tries ignoring his constant texts, even considers putting her phone on do not disturb, but she can't tell which is worse — the man sitting across from her that's making painful attempts at conversation, or the father of her baby who is clearly on a jealousy kick right now.

When her date is four glasses of wine in and asks how they'll be splitting the bill, Y/N unofficially decides that Harry isn't the worst part of the night.

With a grimace, she throws some cash down on the table and heads to the bathroom without a goodbye. When she's safely alone in a stall, she takes a deep breath and presses Harry's contact, only for him to pick up after one ring.

"Hey," she greets, trying to hide the way her voice wobbles, "I need you to come pick me up."

"Why? Is everything okay? Is the baby alright?"

She sighs, lifting her hand to run it through her hair. "Yeah, the baby is fine. I just need a ride."

She can hear some shuffling in the background and assumes he's getting ready to leave his place. "Why? Didn't he drive you there?"

"No, I took an Uber and I don't want to spend more money on this poor excuse of a date," she mutters grumpily, "Save your celebrations, I'm not in the mood."

A beat. And then, "I would never celebrate something making you upset, Y/N."

She shrugs, even though she knows he can't see it.

"Whatever. You're right, he wasn't that cute, and he made me split the bill with him and tried to get me to drink."

"What?"

"It's fine, I'm okay," she quickly backtracks with a shake of her head, "Just come get me. Please."

...

Harry runs two red lights, cuts off four cars, and imagines multiple different ways he wants to hurt the guy Y/N went out with.

(Realistically, he could never fight anyone, but he does contemplate filing an anonymous complaint with his boss at the coffee shop.)

A 25 minute drive is slimmed down to a 17 minute one thanks to the traffic laws he breaks, and he's prepared to march into the restaurant to find Y/N, but she's already sitting outside. He sighs at the sight of her on the bench, cradling her small bump with her jacket wrapped tightly around her form.

"Why didn't you wait inside for me?" he asks when she opens the passenger side door.

"I just started my second trimester, let me have some independence while I can." she grumbles, slamming the door and buckling herself in.

He's silent at that, putting the car back in drive. He hates that she had a bad night, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat happy things didn't go well. The jealousy threatening to crawl out of him makes him embarrassed, and he knows Y/N would only yell at him if she figured out how he really felt.

The rest of the drive is quiet. He glances over occasionally to make sure she's doing alright, but every time he looks, she's staring out the window and slowly rubbing her bump.

As Harry pulls into a spot outside of her house, she clears her throat.

"Do you... do you wanna come in?" she asks, staring down into her lap, "Not for anything weird but, like... to hang out, or whatever."

He nods, his heart warming slightly. "Yeah. Actually, when you called, I was reading one of those parenting books I got and it said it would be helpful to start singing and talking to the baby so they recognize my voice."

She laughs lightly and resists the urge to tease him. "Okay," she says with a small smile, unbuckling her seatbelt, "You can come in and... sing to my stomach."

He presses his lips together so she doesn't see the grin threatening to appear.

"Thanks, Y/N."